


Red Bull

by TardisMagic



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Butchered Macbeth, Caffeine, Coffee, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Love, M/M, Rammstein - Freeform, Red Bull, Sort Of, paulchard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:47:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29353680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisMagic/pseuds/TardisMagic
Summary: Richard and Paul accidentally drink Red Bull much to the horror and embarrassment of the rest of the band. Much silliness ensues.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Red Bull

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for the fic started in a thread on the Facebook group Rammstein Army with a photo of Till holding up a napkin with 'help' written on it. 
> 
> One of the members suggested this reason why: Till - Someone please help. Both Richard and Paul drank a can of Red Bull each and long story short I'm the only band member that hasn't been tied up yet.
> 
> Paulchard
> 
> I'm not entirely sure if this ended up quite the way I thought it should but it kept heading into 'miserable' territory and I was trying to make it more crack than anything,

Till was rapidly running out of places to hide from the two Rammstein guitarist.

Whoever had given Paul and Richard Reb Bull was going to die when Till got his hands on them.

The fact that the pair were literally high on the equivalent of 8 cups of coffee in one go was quite probably the Rammstein version of a ‘worst-case scenario’ Till thought ruefully.

It’d taken the rest of the band quite a while to realise that most of the arguing Paul and Richard had done during the mess that had become Mutter was because they were so hyped up on caffeine, they were practically vibrating with it and the negative energy it generated had nowhere else to go at the time.

For the rest of the band’s mental health, they’d decided they needed to keep as much caffeine away from the pair as possible and had come up with a plan to limit it by sneakily giving both guitarists decaffeinated coffee. Even if it did cost a small fortune to import it from Africa. It was the only known source of naturally caffeine-free coffee beans and better yet, Richard and Paul, the coffee snobs that they were couldn’t tell the difference.

So far, the manically laughing duo had managed to capture and tie up Christoph, Flake, and Oliver, although how they’d managed to tie Oliver up, he had no idea and Till wasn’t very keen on finding out how either.

Why they were tying up their bandmates was also a mystery but Till didn’t have time for that. Keeping one step ahead of the pair was his primary concern right now.

Till sidled into the practice room and sighed with relief when he didn’t hear any giggling. Seriously this was worse than Five Nights at Freddie’s. Till had no idea when the pair would suddenly pop up out of nowhere and they’d nearly given him a heart attack quite a few times before he’s slipped away as quietly and quickly as possible.

Trying to figure where else to hide in the building, because the two bastards had locked them all in, that he could at least take a breath in, suddenly became all the more urgent when he heard the faint maniacal laughing of the pair.

He looked around wildly for anywhere to hide as the two got louder.

“Tilly … “ Paul sang loudly before dissolving into hysterical giggling again.

Till stood in frozen panic, trying to come up with anywhere to go when and, for whatever reason he would not be able to explain later where the idea came from, he remembered the empty panel under the recording desk.

He belted back the way he came and skidded into the recording studio, one hand clutching the door frame and nearly smacked into it face first when he almost swung a complete 360. Letting go he hastily yanked the door open and managed to squeeze himself into the cramped space.

Good thing he wasn’t claustrophobic.

For the next half an hour, Till breathed as quietly as he could, especially when he heard the two idiots come into the recording studio.

It wasn’t so much them being tied up that bothered Till, it’s what the pair of idiots would do with a captive audience and since they were on the mother of all caffeine highs, Till didn’t think it would end well at all. Not to mention the sheer level of awkward embarrassment that would inevitably come after.

The mumbled conversation was too low for Till to make out much of what they were saying but he did hear his name more than once and just about bit the finger he’d jammed in his mouth off trying to remain as quiet as possible.

The cramp in his leg nearly gave him away at one point and he was beginning to think maybe being tied to a chair wasn’t all that bad when their voices finally faded.

Till sighed in relief but waited another ten minutes just to make sure they had actually gone and weren’t waiting near the door to pounce on him. I wouldn’t be the first time. The only advantage Till had over the two was his speed and strength but he couldn’t take on them both at the same time.

Hearing nothing, he cautiously cracked the door open, squinting into the bright light. He held his breath and listened but could only hear the faint laughter of the two somewhere else in the building.

He crawled out of the cramped space and winced in pain as his muscles and bones protested the movement. Rubbing at his lower back that was complaining the most, he stood up and wondered how long it would take the two to finally crash.

Close on heels of that thought was what the pair would be like and he’d bet his life it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He was going to have to find the others and soon because he did not want to deal with the two idiots on his own. He sighed, “The things I do.” He muttered to himself and snuck off in the opposite direction of the continued laughing that has now formed into more of a cackle.

If those two started quoting Macbeth again, he was going to find a way out of here if it was the last thing he did.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Flake glared at Oliver, who was doing an admirable job of completely ignoring the irate man. “How the fuck are we supposed out get out this?” He asked for the fiftieth time, glaring at Christoph while he was at it.

“How the fuck should I know.” Christoph glared back at Flake. “Who was the idiot who even gave them the damn drinks in the first place? “

“It certainly wasn’t any of us,” Oliver said quietly.

Flake sighed and deflated. “Sorry,” he mumbled to both men.

“It’s ok,” Christoph said. “We really need to find a way to get out these ropes.” He paused for a second. “Actually, where did these ropes even come from?”

Oliver cocked his head to one side, in thought. “That’s a good question. I’ve never seen them before.” He mumbled thinking out loud.

Flake sat up abruptly, wincing as the ropes pulled on his wrists. “Since when could those two tie knots?” He asked. “Half the time Paul doesn’t even tie his shoes up. I’ve been waiting for him to faceplant the floor for years.”

Christoph chuckled at the mental image. “Nah, Richard always catches him and probably always will. He’s always there when Paul trips over his shoelaces or anything else for that matter. He’s pretty much Pauls's shadow.”

They all paused as the implication of what Christoph said hit them like an oncoming freight train.

“How long have they been together?” Flake asked weakly.

“Don’t know but I’m thinking sometime after Mutter. Remember when they came in late for the recording session of one of Richards songs that Till had butchered completely on purpose and he didn’t react at all?” Christoph said, his eyes going wide. Why hadn’t he realised then what was happening between the pair then?

“Oh. My. Gods.” Flake whispered.

“Pretty much.” Oliver agreed softly.

“Hang on we’re getting way off-topic,” Christoph said, trying to shake the mental image of Paul and Richard kissing. “We can discuss the love birds later. We need to get out of these ropes before they come back, and we need to find Till. He’s the only one who's strong enough to hold Richard while we sort out what to do.”

After much swearing, shuffling of chairs, and constant pauses in case the pair were heading in their direction, they finally managed to get Oliver free who quickly undid the other two men. Shaking some circulation back into their hands they heard the distant approach of Paul and Richard.

Belting out the other end of the room all three of them sprinted around a corner and bowled Till over who’d been sneaking in the direction they’d come from. All four men went down in a tangle of arms, legs, and swearing as quietly as possible.

“They’re coming.” Flake panted as he untangled himself, scrambling off the floor, and shot off in the direction they’d been heading.

The other three were right behind him when they heard the outraged shout. “They escaped!”

The irony of fear lending them wings was not lost on Till.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours and a couple of very close calls later. The four men had finally trapped Richard and Paul in a room without them even realising it, still on their caffeine high.

“Now what?” Christoph panted, winded from all the running. He really needed to get in better shape. He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor.

Till considered their options which were extremely limited. “About the only thing we can do at this point is to wait for them to come down. They have to crash sooner or later.” He grimaced.

“Is there any way . . . “ Flake jumped about a foot in the air as either Paul or Richard crashed into the door expecting it to open and promptly bounced off the very locked door, landing on his arse.

“What the fuck?” Paul exclaimed. That answered that then, Till thought.

The four men heard Richard racing over to help Paul.

They all looked at each other when they heard the unmistakable sound of the two men kissing and giggling which from two grown men still sounded downright terrifying.

Small mercies, at least the cackling had stopped.

Till was still thinking through their options an hour later when Paul giggled his way through the opening scene with the three witches from Macbeth.

Till stood up abruptly. “That’s it. I’m out.” He declared and turned away. Flake threw himself around Tills legs nearly toppling him over. “Oh no, you don’t.” He growled. “I don’t care what they butcher, you are _not_ leaving us with them.”

Till sighed. There were days he was sure he was the only adult in the band and today was definitely one of them. “I don’t know what you think I can do.” He grumbled lowering himself to the floor again.

The three other men glared at him. “At least you didn’t get caught,” Christoph said.

“Actually, now that you mention it how on earth did Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb manage to tie you all up?” Till looked at the three men still sitting on the floor

Oliver snickered at the apt description while Flake and Christoph gave Till identical blank looks.

Till looked between the two with an incredulous expression. “Alice In Wonderland?” He asked hoping they at least knew that much.

The two men shared a confused look before shaking their heads.

“Oh, my fucking gods, don’t either of you read anything?” He asked, exasperated, his voice raised a little.

Before either guilty party could say a word in their defence, they heard a pitiful voice on the other side of the doors. “Till?” Richard whispered just loud enough to be heard.

Till sighed again. “I think they’re crashing.”

“Till?” Richard asked, his voice a bit louder.

“What’s up Reesh?” He asked, keeping his voice as soothing and calm as he possibly could.

“Why are we locked in a room?” Richard asked sounding almost childlike in his confusion.

“Do you remember drinking Red Bull at all?”

“Why would we drink that?” He asked, his tone both thoroughly confused and horrified. “Paul and I know we can only drink about two cups of coffee a day then you give us the really good decaf stuff.”

All four men gaped at the door. “You know about that?” Flake spluttered.

Richard snorted a quiet laugh. “Hi, Flake.” He said before he continued. “Of course, we do. It’s good coffee and since we’re no longer at each other’s throats we decided not to make a fuss about it.”

Till shook his head as he stood up again. “Can I come in without being jumped?” He asked.

Richard chuckled. “You’re safe. There’s no ropes.” He said then paused, wondering why he even said that.

“Thank fuck for that!“ Flake shuddered.

“Sorry, Flake.” Richard apologised although for what he wasn’t entirely sure. He remembered vaguely there had been ropes at some point, he just couldn’t remember what he’d done with them or why he and Paul even had them in the first place.

Paul giggled again but it sounded more tired than anything. “Why is my head killing me?” He asked Richard, his voice sounding more bemused than in any real pain.

“You ran into the door,” Richard replied, softly.

“Oh!” Paul paused for a second. Before he could say anything else Till slipped into the room, the other three locking the door behind him.

“Cowards,” He shouted at them, glaring through the door.

Till looked down at the pair. Richard was sitting with his legs crossed on the floor and had Paul's head in his lap and was gently brushing Paul's forehead where a sizable lump and subsequent bruise was forming and winced. That was going to hurt.

Somewhere along the way, they’d both managed to lose their shoes, which explained how they were silent enough not to be heard. Thank fuck they couldn’t keep their voices down to save themselves.

Actually, considering their caffeine-induced behaviour Till was more than a little relieved they still had most of their clothes on.

Till plonked himself on the floor next to Richard. “You don’t remember drinking Red Bull at all?”

Richard shook his head while Paul mumbled something that might have been a ‘no’ but Till couldn’t tell.

Richard thought for a moment, although his thoughts were still all over the place, he vaguely remembered picking up two drinks for he and Paul on their way to practice. After that, it was all a jumbled blur. Neither man had, had that big a caffeine hit since the fallout of Mutter, which was . . . he couldn’t even guess never mind remember how long ago.

“We ordered our usual coffee from that place Paul and I always go to on the way here,” Richard said trying to remember. “When we got here, we’d both finished the coffees. They tasted odd but I didn’t think anything of it because they’ve been trying new blends. That’s about the last I can remember clearly.” Richard said, his face turning bright red.

“I think they accidentally gave you the coffee version of a Jagerbomb,” Till said, having googled on the run, literally. “It’s the only thing I can think of . . .”

“But . . .” Richard interrupted.

Till held up his hand, cutting Richard off. “None of this is your fault. There was no way either you could have known, Reesh. Had you drunk the stuff knowing that, then yeah, I would say it’s your fault, but you didn’t because I trust you.”

Richard sighed in relief. “What do we do now?” Richard asked, looking down at Paul, his expression soft.

“Talk the three ‘ _cowards_ ’” Till yelled the word, glaring at the still locked door, “Into letting us out and we get you home. I don’t know how long it’ll take that shit to come out of your system so take the next few days off.”

“But we’re supposed to be rehearsing,” Paul mumbled with his eyes still closed. Till suspected he was heading into one of his migraines which the caffeine withdrawal and the ever-growing lump were not going to help.

“I think we can spare a few days and to be honest it’s going to take the other three that long to get over the embarrassment of being tied up. Especially Oliver.” Till laughed at the indignant denial coming through the door. “Then open the damn door,” Till yelled, still laughing.

Till laughed even harder when the three cautiously peered around the door frame looking for all the world like they expected to be eaten alive or something similarly hilarious.

“You idiots,” He wheezed at them, flopping back on the floor, laughing so much he couldn’t breathe.

Never let it be said Rammstein practice sessions weren’t entertaining, even if Till was the only one laughing.


End file.
